Nothing's perfect or... what men think about

I
 believe we can all agree that nothing’s perfect. But when I make that statement, I don’t mean that you can’t find anything perfect in the world. You can. But there’s only one perfect thing, and that is nothing.
I think most men have an inkling of what I mean. But women? Y’all probably have no clue what I’m talking about, so let me ’splain. And I’m asking you to trust me on this one. Just follow along, because I promise by the end of this column, you will still have absolutely no idea what I mean. That’s not by design either. It’s a gender thing.
You see, it is a common misconception that men have no idea about women. That is a lie. We understand women completely. We watch your behavior, try to figure out the way you think (which we actually can). Then at the exact moment we have you figured out, alien ships with estrogen-induced mind control, gamma rays come along, blast every woman on the planet, and all of you are reprogrammed. Then we guys have to spend the next year analyzing and scouring all the available new information to figure it out all over again. And REPEAT. You see how easy that is?
But all you women out there look at the way us guys do things, trying to figure out the way we think, why “AEW” or “WWE” is the most awesome of all television shows to us. You would be able to figure that out if you spent time at it. But no! You end up letting extraterrestrials change your minds because you feel that will throw us men off balance again. To tell the truth, it does make our world spin around in our heads, but that’s only temporary. However, changing your minds is a permanent enterprise.
And it’s not your fault. You see, when God made man, it was in his own image. That includes the logical, systematic way we think. But you ladies were made from a rib, but not until God slathered you with barbecue sauce and charbroiled you. You started out as a raw rib, then you changed to a cooked one. With barbecue sauce, of course. You can’t forget the barbecue sauce! No woman is complete without barbecue sauce.
It all comes down to the way we think. Men and women do not think the same way. Men are simple and direct in their thinking, but women are a mess. We have to throw kids in the mix on this one. Their thoughts are not just a mess, they are coordinated cacophonous chaos of cognitive content. In other words, on purpose, they mess up their minds. Mostly with loud crashes of stuff they call music and video games where some ancient superhero is obliterated into a million pixels of goo. It’s the only power they have against adults.
You see, a kid’s mind until he reaches the age of, say, 40 is like a pile of Legos – a big pile, something on the lines of an infinite number of pieces that someone has kicked all over the room. Add to that, the child has thrown a dozen jars of peanut butter, the oily fluid type, and dirty socks all around the place. Grab your dad’s golf clubs and stir vigorously. Then they turned up some death metal bands like Brain Sword Impalers all the way to 11
and then told you to go in there and find your car keys. Don’t forget, they are laughing at you the entire time. It’s not possible to find your keys either. The keys aren’t there. That’s just where your little brats told you they were. This is done on purpose in that exact sequence because kids don’t want any adults to figure out the way they think. Personally, I think they are better at that goal
than women are.
Women have one box in their minds. When you open that box, you find a big ball of yarn. The yarn comes – I think some of them are also made of pasta. But they are all jumbled together. You could be thinking along that blue strand of yarn, which curves around this way or that. Suddenly you realize it’s touching that pink strand of yarn that is traveling away from the blue strand. So you think, “Why not follow that one?” and off you go. Blue to pink to red to yellow to the blue again. But this time, it touches green, and you realize the green is moldy pasta.
You get the point? Trying to organize that ball of yarn is not possible, because at many different points along the way, you’ve tied strands together. So there is no way to untangle that mess. This is the way you think. And I hate to burst your ideas about men, but we get that! We don’t necessarily understand why your mind works that way, but we get it. As such, women have a hundred million thoughts going on in their heads at any one moment in time. One thought doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with another idea. It’s just touching that other thought but probably made of an entirely different material. And there’s no way to organize those thoughts either, because that ball of yarn is vast, as is the box you hold it in. The other part of this process is that you’ve lost the lid to your box. So that ball of yarn is always in front of you, teasing you with this thought, which leads to that thought, which leads to ... wherever! And just when we finally realize what the rule is about the way women think, the aliens replace that ball of yarn with a tangle of nonending twisty ties and shoelaces! It leads to the same form of thinking, but it’s different stuff you think about for the next year.
Men have a different system. We have these shelves in our minds. On those shelves are a lot of little boxes. We will take one down and open it up, look at the contents, consider it, then put it back in the box, close the lid and put it back on the shelf right where we got it from. Many of these boxes are way down low, so that we have to bend over to pick them up. Some are way up high, so we have to stand on our tippy toes to get them. There’s effort involved in looking at those thoughts. We will rearrange our boxes as we figure this out. This way, those things that are less important are at those difficult locations on the shelves, because thinking about those takes work, and that’s just not what our thinking process is about. But in the middle of our shelves, right at chest level where it’s easy to get to, and with bold spotlights illuminating them, are two large boxes. You might think the largest of these boxes are labeled sex. That’s not true. It’s the second-largest box. It’s also covered in red velvet with a lid that is secure but easy to get off. And it is a large box, easy to get
to, lightweight and smells like freshly ground coffee. To go as far as to say it’s our favorite box is a stretch, though. It’s close, but not
our most beloved.
Our favorite box is slightly larger. It is made of silver and trimmed in gold, but it is made by elves, so it barely weighs anything. This box practically floats into your hands. The lid fits securely but is hinged in such a way that we just have to flip it up and expose the contents. Easy Peasy! The contents of this box are easy to define. It is utterly empty! There is nothing in that box. We also have a big comfortable chair in the warehouse of our mind. It has lovely heat controls and vibrating motors in it. It reclines back at just the right angle so that we can lay back, hold our nothing box and just stare at it for hours on end. Now there is wrestling playing off to the side. We only have to avert our eyes by millimeters to watch it. You see? No effort is involved whatsoever!
And when I say there’s nothing in that box, I don’t mean it’s full of air. Air is something. This box was taken outside the boundaries of the universe and opened up. Even space is something, and space is created in the presence of matter. That’s
just too much to think about. So our box contains whatever it is that is outside the universe. Because there’s no matter beyond that, there’s not even space in there. It’s nothing. Nothing at all. Absolutely void of substance, form and meaning. And
us men can, and continuously do, spend more than half our time considering that beautiful, uncomplicated, sedate nothing.
And it’s perfect!